


In These Castle Walls

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Legit PWP, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, PWP, Smut, Voyeurism, legit this is just porn there is no plot whatsoever to be found
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21762550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When it happens, Gwaine is coming back late from the tavern.
Relationships: Gwaine/Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 244





	In These Castle Walls

**Author's Note:**

> There is no reason for this to exist. I am ashamed. I swear I can write more than porn--

When it happens, Gwaine is coming back late from the tavern. Standard for him, of course – it’s something that happens more days of the week than not, and he isn’t ashamed to admit it – but he indulged himself tonight and his mind is far more clouded than usual. He’s swaying a little, footsteps unsteady as he meanders down the corridors, barely sober enough to stay upright and get through the castle to his chambers.

The hallways are deserted. It’s almost deathly silent, save for the sound of his own uneven steps and the faint crackling of the torches along the walls. Turning a corner, he spies the door to his chambers just metres ahead and nearly groans in relief. His muscles are aching after yet another long day on the field with Arthur and he hasn’t had the time for a bath in days. All he wants is to fall face down in his bed and pass out.

He’s already halfway through the door when he hears it. A stifled little yelp. Concerned, Gwaine pauses and glances down the dark hall. There’s only silence, and for a moment he almost thinks he’s imagined it, until--

There’s another sound, louder this time. Something suspiciously moan-like. Gwaine’s eyebrows immediately rise. Spurred on by something – he’s not sure, a morbid sense of amusement, perhaps – he makes to follow the sound. He isn’t sure what he’s hoping to find, if anything, but he follows the sound to behind one of the empty chambers, uninhabited since Sir Pellinore left. Clearly, it has not remained so. Surprisingly, the door is already ajar, and Gwaine peers inside. The sight that greets him makes his jaw gape open.

There are two figures clearly _going at it_ , their bodies shadowed by the light. One moans again, and throws their – _his_ – head back. It takes a moment for it to settle in, but Gwaine would recognise that voice anywhere… Gwaine’s mind stutters to a halt for all of one second before he blinks and looks closer, feeling utterly surreal.

 _Merlin’s_ pale neck, dimly illuminated by the firelight, is arched against the wall as he gasps out desperate, pleading little breaths into Arthur’s ear. His breeches have been shoved down to his ankles, and his long, bare legs are twined around Arthur’s torso, seated on the edge of a desk, as Arthur fucks him with long, unhurried strokes, fingers slowly dragging along the lines of his back. Mouth open and wet on Merlin’s neck, a hand splayed wide on his chest, whispering low under his breath. Something filthy, no doubt.

It’s a little hard to see from where he’s standing, partially obscured by the door in the way, and he cranes his neck to get a better view. He’s not sure what he’s doing, but somehow he can’t quite pull away, even as a part of him screams that he shouldn’t be watching this.

Gwaine sees Merlin bite his lip and groan at something Arthur says, followed by a smug smirk. It’s a familiar expression, one Gwaine can hardly go a day without seeing – and yet there’s something about it that’s utterly foreign, something Gwaine cannot put his finger on for the life of him. Arthur’s face seems somehow soft and purely intimate in this dim light, his eyes fierce with a kind of heat Gwaine’s never seen in him before.

Merlin suddenly shifts his hips and pushes down on Arthur’s cock, hard, and fists a hand into blond hair as he guides Arthur’s lips to his and covers them in a hard kiss. Arthur groans into Merlin’s mouth and begins to fuck him properly, grabbing his hips in a what must be a bruising grip and lifting him from the desk to press him hard against the wall instead.

And fuck, of course, the bed-- They’re not even using the _bed--_ Honestly, what is wrong with the pair of them--

“Fuck, Arthur,” Merlin gasps, whimpering, his hands pulling him closer, even though they’re already pressed as tightly as they can possibly get.

Gwaine holds back a groan and reaches down to palm himself through his pants, his erection already painfully hard. He doesn’t dare touch himself fully here, not just for fear of being discovered but rather the utter shamelessness of it, the depravity of what he’s doing, what he’s seeing. In fact, Gwaine cannot safely say if he will ever be able to look either of them in the eye again.

Arthur kisses Merlin again, wet, and shoves his fingers into his mouth until they’re slick and dripping with his saliva. Merlin hisses, breath stuttering, as Arthur reaches between them and takes Merlin’s cock in his fist, pumping him erratically. The sounds they make are obscene and wet, and Gwaine feels something irresistible and hot stir within him as he watches them: gasping and panting wildly against each other, their bodies limned in golden light. Arthur bites down hard on Merlin’s thin neck, thrown back in silent pleasure, his mouth slick and red in the firelight.

Arthur growls and tenses, muscles clenching, and Gwaine bites his lip because then he’s watching Arthur coming, watching him groan low and broken as he buries himself one last time. Merlin follows soon after, another few jerks to his cock and he’s gone, gasping out his pleasure as he comes in thick, white streaks between their bellies.

They gasp into others’ mouths as they recover, unmoving in the afterglow until Arthur finally sets Merlin’s legs down on the ground, only for him slide to the floor in exhaustion.

Gwaine quickly retreats, heart pounding, moving as quietly as he can back into the safety of his chambers, not even daring to fully shut the door until he hears the murmurs fade and their footsteps shuffle to bed.

He shuts and bars the door, suddenly paranoid, then slides to floor, mind still reeling. He buries his face in his hands and lets out what might be a whimper.

Every time he closes his eyes, he sees flashes of Merlin’s face, half-shadowed; Arthur’s hands holding him in place as he slowly pushes into him; he can practically still hear the way they were _moaning_ –- his _King_ , and his _friend--_

Gwaine groans and tears his breeches open, sliding a hand inside. He touches himself desperately, grip tight as he brings himself off as quickly as he can. He bites his lip when he feels orgasm jerk through him, trying to stifle the sound. The room feels far too quiet all of a sudden as he pants into the still air.

He feels a strange mixture of shame and satisfaction as he cleans himself up and gets into bed. Whilst Gwaine is still unsure of what he just bore witness to… for all his trepidation, there is no denying that he would rather like to see it again. He closes his eyes and sighs.

Camelot... is just full of surprises.


End file.
